Shadow's Light (28 page)

When Jett appeared in the room it became impossible to ignore. He stole the limelight. His presence required their attention and deference. I sat back and watched from my vantage point at a table off to the side. Shane and Sergei sitting with me. Aliath standing several feet away, but close enough to listen in. The room came alive when Jett arrived, similar to how it had done in the past when Michel walked in. As Jett was not their master - head of their line - but instead just the Master of the City, it surprised me slightly. I had expected reverence of his office, not of the man himself.

It all came back to that old stalwart. What the vampire perceives as true, is true. To these vampires here, Jett had protected them, organised them and saved them after the death of their master. He may not have officially taken on the role of master of the line, but to them he already was.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable being here and if Samson hadn't returned to my table at exactly that moment and slipped into the bench seat beside me, I would have got up and left. He sensed my unease immediately and placed his arm across my shoulder, pulling me against his side. Nataliya appeared from wherever she had been hiding and cast Shane a look. Not completely unfriendly, but commanding anyway. He nodded in understanding, smiled at me and got up from the table, leaving space for Nataliya to slide in next to her brother opposite me.

Their proximity and strength bolstered me and within several minutes I realised I was breathing normally again. I hadn't even noticed I wasn't before. We sat silently for a while, nursing our drinks. I couldn't help but continue to take in the scene before me. These vampires needed to see Michel. They knew, intellectually, that he was alive. But without seeing him, feeling him, scenting him, they couldn't perceive it was true.

For the time being these vampires belonged to Jett. It was Jett I had to keep on side. I finished my drink and excused myself from the table and walked directly over to Jett. The vampires surrounding him didn't immediately move to allow me access, but I have never been intimidated by vampire politics. I was still a Nosferatin,
the
Nosferatin in this city. If they couldn't respect Michel's position without him being here, then they sure as hell would be reminded of mine.

I pulled my Light around me, then let it seep out to each and every one of them. Not in pain, nor unfriendly. I wasn't going to convince them by strength and with anger. These vampires were still of Michel's line. They were still precious to me, even if they had forgotten that. The resultant euphoria my Light automatically chose to represent washed through them. I had purposely not given it to Jett. As Master of the City he deserved a little respect. I may not have been using harsh tactics on the vampires surrounding him, but I was still taking liberties.

One by one they removed themselves to collapse in seats off to the side and bask in the bliss I had created. All of them looked at me with hunger and renewed respect. Ah, it was good to be remembered.

Jett smiled at me knowingly. He knew exactly what I had done. Rather than cause a scene and call me out at my blatant act of persuasion, he stepped forward and wrapped me in an embrace and kissed me on my lips. Further adding to the significance of my return.

“Luce,” he whispered, only loud enough for me to hear. “Don't ever assume I do not want your Light.”

“I was trying to be respectful,” I replied. He chuckled in response.

“Welcome back to the city, Nosferatin," he said, then he turned and walked from the room, leaving me standing there a bit stunned.

“He has certainly got a way about him,” Nataliya said from right beside me.

I laughed. “As soon as they become Master of a City they take on airs and graces.”

“Hmm,” she replied, studying the door he had just escaped through. “By airs and graces do you mean blatant sexual appeal and a commanding presence?”

My laughter became stronger, a genuine response to her words. Nataliya had never said so many words to me at once. I liked this new version. I liked it a lot.

We returned to our table and I reluctantly had to concede I hadn't had the talk I had intended with Jett after all. I couldn't be upset about it. The exchange had been surprising, but none the less nice. I knew Michel would just laugh at that response. Jett was definitely one of the vampires to watch now, but I was still very much Michel's. As the new Master of the City already knew. It had all been an act as suspected and I couldn't help admiring Jett's pluck.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted, become lighter and the attention I began receiving from the vampires there, more familiar. Not Michel-back-and-in-control-of-the-line familiar, but at least a semblance of that old feeling he had instilled in them all. We drank and joked and reconnected. Nataliya becoming more and more relaxed, displaying a sense of humour I had not expected in the warrior vampire. Not only had her nurturing side dumbfounded me, but now her quick wit and sexy observations floored me too. She seemed suddenly so very attractive. The harsh, stark lines of her face softened by the smiles and jokes she shared.

I wondered if Samson was affected by her. He seemed to enjoy her company, but didn't show any signs of attraction other than that. And then I remembered the human girl. Maybe I should call her a woman, she did look well over twenty. Well kind of. But her innocent face and Barbie blonde hair made her seem younger somehow. The way she had looked at him when he spoke to her on our arrival was all woman though, that was for sure.

We were about to call it a night and return home to St. Helier's when I felt the pull. It jolted through me with a sense of urgency that made me drop my glass. It tumbled over the table top, spilling the last of its contents across the wooden surface. Nataliya automatically reached out and stopped it from crashing to the floor.

“What is it?” Samson asked concerned.

I shook my head to get a handle on why this pull was so much stronger than my usual evil-lurks-in-my-city pull. I let myself sink into the black nothingness of Dream Walking, but didn't allow myself to go too far. Instead used that space to
seek
out the signature of the vampire about to strike. It was unfamiliar, but extremely Dark. Before I had a chance to consider that information, I knew he had struck. Usually my Nosferatin powers allow me enough time to get to the victim before it was too late, but clearly this was not usual.

I pushed up from the bench seat and started for the door without replying to Samson. At the door to the club I noticed that he, Sergei and Nataliya, plus Marcus and Matthias and the Grey Lord fairy had followed in my wake. Overkill much? I didn't stop moving across the vestibule to the outside door, but spoke over my shoulder instead.

“It's a hunt. Samson and Nataliya come with me. The rest of you stay behind, we'll call if you're needed. It's one vampire and one victim, let's not all walk into a potential trap.”

Sergei seemed to consider this for a moment then agreed with a curt nod. Back up was always better if it was kept out of the initial clash. Aliath however didn't hesitate to argue.

“I will not stay behind, Princess.” I frowned at his use of my fey title, but just shot him a suffering glance.

“Of course not, fairy, I wouldn't dream of it.”

Our little posse picked up speed once on the pavement and within a minute, maybe two, we reached our goal.

The first thing that let me know this was way more serious than I had expected was Samson's shout of alarm. He rushed to the side of the victim, ignoring the slavering Rogue in the shadows. Not a usual move for Samson, he normally had more sense than that.

One glance at the girl on her side in a pool of dark, red blood and I knew why.

It was her. The blonde from the bar. And she was quite clearly dead.

I pulled my attention away from Samson's frantic efforts to revive her. I knew they were wasted, the girl had lost too much blood. And turned instead to the Dark Rogue watching passively from the side. His red rimmed eyes flicked up to mine and he smiled. A creepy, fang filled, bloody smile.

I palmed a stake and let the light of the street lamps illuminate it, but he didn't shift his gaze from my eyes. He didn't look alarmed or scared or threatened. He looked amused. Like this was all some game and he had crossed the finish line first. When you considered the dead human beneath Samson's clasped hands as he was trying to perform CPR, then he'd be right. He had won the race and I had no idea how he had managed it.

I hadn't delayed the hunt. We had been nearby, so arrived within minutes of the initial pull. Usually that was enough to get the drop on the Dark vampire about to strike. But this one had beaten us to it. And his calm demeanour, wrapped up in an obvious crazy Rogue shell, was surprising.

Not enough to throw me off my game. If I had gained anything from my recent time in South America, speed and perfection of my skills as a hunter were at the top of the list. I was faster and more accurate than I had ever been before. And having been trained by Nero, a truly gifted and experienced Nosferatin, I had been pretty damn good before. But practise makes perfect. And two months hunting on the streets of busy Rio de Janeiro had helped hone my skills even further.

I was more lethal now than I had ever been. And distractions, such as Samson's soft crooning to the dead girl on the ground, had little to no effect on me anymore. I spun towards the vampire and slashed out with my stake. The movement met only air. He'd simple vanished and reappeared over my shoulder.

OK. So, this was not an average Rogue. I should have realised that when we found his meal already dead. Most Rogues are slaves to their hunger. They are blinded to their surroundings and potential hazards by the blood they smell in the air. As this one had clearly tasted that blood too, it made it even more remarkable that he had the faculties to avoid my stake. And, such an ability as appearing to vanish in thin air was not common among lowly Rogues, who were barely more than level five masters.

This guy was clearly something else. But, still all I got from him was very Dark Rogue. He was dressed haphazardly; ripped jeans, dirty tennis shoes and an equally ill-kept T-Shirt sporting a
Coca-Cola
logo in faded red. His hair was unkempt, long, matted brown. Almost bordering on dreadlocks. His skin dark, but it could have been dirt and the colour of his eyes unreadable. They were currently pure red.

Nothing screamed master vampire. Not even his
Sanguis Vitam
signature. Yet, that movement required clout. I filed those thoughts aside and sliced through the air in a twirl. My stake this time meeting flesh, but only superficially. He jumped back as the stake moved across the front of his chest and thrust out his hand at the same moment silver met skin. Somehow managing to block the pain of the cut and connect his fist to the side of my head.

At that point, Nataliya decided to step in. Most of the vampires I have with me know to give me space to perform the hunt. They don't usually step in unless I ask. I'm sure it is difficult for them, to stand back and let the fragile half-human do her job. But, they do. Nataliya entering the fray now was not normal. But then, my sprawling across the concrete in a heap was not normal either.

Nataliya's fist met the back of the vampire's head and her boot followed through with a crunch to his rib cage at his side. He stumbled, then miraculously managed another flash. Looking like he just materialised several feet away. The fact that he just hadn't fled was either due to his sadism or stupidity. Or maybe because Nataliya had done some damage. I was going with the latter, because no matter how this Rogue appeared to be just that; a Rogue, he still had intelligence brimming in those cherry red eyes.

I couldn't manage a spin, he'd damaged me too. But, I could move quickly enough to surprise him, aiming for his heart with my stake, but only connecting with his shoulder. What was with this guy? He didn't even seem military trained, his movements were all instinctive, not practised. I hadn't recognised an action he had made. His defence was sloppy, but somehow effective. His attack, just playful, with no intention of ending the fight swiftly and cleanly. Sure, trained fighters could play with their meal too, but this guy was just playing. No thought to manoeuvre. No thought to a planned approach. It was all just feeding his desires and little else.

These thoughts had all rolled through my head in a split second, making my next move appear seamless with my last. This time I managed to connect with his shoulder blade on his back, but by the time I repositioned for a more accurate strike he had turned to face me and blocked with his arm. Nataliya came at him again from behind, wrapping her arms around both of his and trapping them to his side. Holding him hostage for my final blow.

It seemed like cheating, but clearly there was more at play here than a normal hunt. He had killed the girl, therefore he did deserve to die. The fact that I needed help to carry out that execution was irrelevant, even if my conscious cringed in disgust at the thought of striking the killer blow when he was restrained and unable to fight back.

The hesitation those thoughts provided allowed him his final move. He disappeared, alarmingly making Nataliya who still held him, disappear too. I spun around frantically trying to get a bead on them both. Nothing came to light. The street was free of signatures save Samson's and surprisingly a weak amount of
Sanguis Vitam
coming off the girl.

I didn't have time to consider that notion, sinking quickly into that black void and
seeking
out Nataliya and the Rogue. Her Light-filled signature, so in tune with mine, appeared several hundred metres away. But, the Rogue was nowhere to be sought at all. I had never lost a vampire while using my
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
powers. No vampire could hide from those. Yet, it would seem this Rogue, who was more than a Rogue, could.

I ran towards Nataliya, finding her in a heap on the ground. She was starting to come around. I felt Aliath's presence at my back for the first time during the fight. I had no idea where he had hidden, but as soon as the Rogue vanished he had reappeared. I ignored him and helped Nataliya sit upright.

“God damn!” she cursed in a thick Russian accent, then followed it up with a few words I had no hope of understanding at all. Her hand held her head gingerly.

“Can you walk?” I asked, as she shakily got to her feet. I wanted to get back to Samson and offer some sort of support.

“I'll be fine, go check on Samson,” she said weakly. I hesitated, then Aliath stepped forward and pushed me out of the way, taking hold of Nataliya's arm and giving her someone to lean on.

The fact that she didn't fight the fairy off alarmed me, but my need to help Samson won out. There would be no reason for Aliath to harm Nataliya. Granted there was no reason for him to help either. But, I didn't have time to consider that. Even injured Nataliya could put up a fight and besides, his magical influence was moot against her
Tego Texi Tectum
abilities.

I gave her one more assessing glance then ran back to Samson.

My heart lodged in my throat. Samson had the blonde girl wrapped up in his arms, her body draped over his legs. And he was rocking her back and forth like a precious loved child. A small, high-pitched keening sound was coming from the back of his throat. Tears were streaked down his cheeks and when he raised his face to look at me, they pleaded for my help.

I sank to my knees at his side and automatically reached out to feel for a pulse. There was none. She was whiter than she had appeared in the club, but not blue strangely. Not that deathly blue, just a blank white, like paper. With her platinum blonde hair she seemed like a magical creature. Give her a horn and she'd be a unicorn. A dead unicorn, but beautiful just the same.

“Please,” Samson pleaded and my heart broke again. He clearly loved this girl and there was nothing I could do. I didn't even know her name.

“What's her name?” I asked, for want of something better to say.

“Gigi,” he said, returning his attention to her lifeless face.

I noticed then blood around her lips, maybe that was why she hadn't appeared blue to me before. The red hid the tell-tail signs of death's mask. I reached out and tried to brush some of the blood away, but it became obvious that her whole mouth was filled with it. The more I rubbed, the more spilled back out to replace it. I frowned. What exactly had that Rogue done to this girl before she died? Simply feeding from her would not make her bleed internally and then cough up blood in turn.

I lay my hand against her cheek, she was so cold already. Life had bled out and with it her heat. Not even Samson holding her could replace its loss. As soon as my hand was flat against her skin, I felt it.
Sanguis Vitam
. I pulled back in surprise, then gingerly, holding my breath, replaced my hand again. Definitely a vampire signature. I closed my eyes, breathed out and sank into blackness, then
sought
out her signature on my mental map.

Bloody hell, the Rogue had turned her. He hadn't just fed from her veins, he'd drained her almost dry and then made her drink his blood in return. She was turning and none of us had noticed. Samson because he was distraught and me because I had never faced a vampire in the throes of shedding its humanity and turning to the night. But something about this transformation seemed off. Wrong. Incomplete. The fact that her maker was no longer here may have had something to do with it. I wasn't sure, Michel had never divulged entirely how the process was carried out. But, I knew, without understanding, that this turning would fail. The girl was not yet undead, but she would surely die.

Her signature was Dark too. So, so Dark. It didn't really surprise me. The Rogue had been incredibly Dark as well. A vampire takes on the Dark of their sire. She would have no choice should she survive this night, but to follow in his footsteps, the level of Dark all consuming.

I didn't know this girl. I had never been introduced. But, I knew Samson and although the connection I have with my vampires does not let me feel their emotions or moods, there was no denying he was in pain. Gut wrenching, heart breaking, mind numbing pain. I didn't need a connection to feel it. It filled the street we were on and seeped right into my bones.

Samson. My Samson, was tearing up inside and I knew without a doubt that it would be permanent.

I've prayed before to Nut, but rarely received a reply. I don't know why I tried it now. My desire to help Samson, to stop an irreversible change to his loving nature and friendly smile, overcame logic. Overcame everything. My Light filled up my body, spilled over into the air around us and then shot up into the sky. To me, Nut is in heaven. Heaven is in the clouds. I have always directed my thoughts above, as I directed my Light as a beacon to my Goddess now.

I was still deep in my blank nothingness, the space reserved for Dream Walking and
seeking
using my
Sanguis Vitam Cupitor
powers. Maybe that was why it worked. Maybe Nut had just decided I needed a break after the hellish time I had in
Álfheimr
, no doubt a realm she couldn't reach me in. But, I was back in our world now,
seeking
her and she replied.

My mind changed from a blank nothingness. A blackness more than just black, to a light-filled, bright white space. The sound of unseen, laughing children filling the air around me. The peace and tranquillity and happiness of the moment filling my body and making me float on clouds.

I'd been here before, when I had almost died. I knew this place, I recognised the sound and sensation of being in
Elysium
. I would be happy to come here one day, to meet those children whose laughter fills me with such hope. To see my lost friends and gaze upon the face of my Goddess.

I knew when she appeared now, I would not be able to comprehend her being in its entirety. A glimpse of a smile, wide lips, white teeth, dark skin. Golden pools for eyes. Long black hair silkier than any substance available on Earth.

Her voice reached me first. Musical, compelling. It not only surrounded me, it went right through me. Neither here nor not here. Just was.

“What would you ask of me, child?”

“Save her.” I didn't hesitate to ask the impossible. This was Nut, she had saved me once. Maybe more than once. She was a god.

“For every action there is a consequence, Lucinda. Are you prepared, my precious one, to take responsibility for this momentous request?”

For Nut to call it momentous meant something. But right then, all I could feel was the residue of Samson's pain. I nodded in return to her question.

“Say it, child, you must speak the words.” Words have meaning, not only to the Nosferatu. Nut is the Goddess of Light. She is our mother. The mother to all Nosferatin. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as the Nosferatu. Words had meaning to Nut.

I took a deep breath in and said clearly, “Please save the girl Gigi. Don't let her die.”

Nut reached out and cupped my cheek tenderly. “For the suffering you have experienced and the fact that I was unable to aid you through it at all, I grant you this request, daughter.” I breathed out in relief, but Nut had not finished. “I cannot return her humanity. I cannot allow her to be turned without my influence having an effect. She will be different, Lucinda, she will be unique and you will be responsible for her life.”